


Autoerotica

by cordelia_gray



Category: SPN
Genre: Age Play, Blow Jobs, Car Sex, M/M, Porn, Roleplay, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-28
Updated: 2010-06-28
Packaged: 2017-10-18 01:27:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/183446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordelia_gray/pseuds/cordelia_gray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to http://archiveofourown.org/works/183447. Sam finds out one of Dean's fantasies, and fulfills it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Autoerotica

**Author's Note:**

> A while back, [](http://velvetine01.livejournal.com/profile)[**velvetine01**](http://velvetine01.livejournal.com/) had a ["Blow Me(me)"](http://community.livejournal.com/vel_etc/13274.html). I wrote a little story for a prompt about [library sex](http://cordelia-gray.livejournal.com/1649.html), where Dean finds out one of Sam's secret fantasies and makes it come true, 'cause he's awesome like that. This is sort of a companion piece, where Sam reciprocates. Feedback/suggestions are loved, I'm still pretty new at this.

“Truth or Dare, Sammy,” Dean says, out of the blue.

The night road is unspooling itself in front of them, an empty, rain-slick stretch of semi-abandoned highway, mile markers ticking past like second hands on some immense clock.

Sam closes the laptop with a sigh. He's been trying to read a scan of an ancient Aramaic text, peering at the glow of the screen like it held the secrets of the universe. Maybe it does, but his eyes are burning and the laptop is almost out of batteries. And he should probably talk to Dean; help keep him awake for the all-night drive.

“Seriously?” He yawns and stretches, not missing the flicker of Dean's gaze to the strip of skin where his shirts ride up.

“Truth or Dare, dude. You gotta pick one.”

“We are so not doing this, Dean. What are you? Twelve?”

“We so are, little brother. Now man up and choose.”

“Truth.” Sam knows there’s no way Dean’s letting this go, and Dare has so many ways to go horribly wrong.

“Ever had road head? Or given it?” Dean grins, raising an eyebrow.

“Christ, Dean!” Sam is continually appalled by his brother’s ability to make everything about his id, and he can already see where this is going to end up. “No, never. Though I did get to third base once in the schoolbus on the way to a Mathlete competition in junior year.”

Dean laughs so hard Sam thinks he’s going to run them off the road, though given the emptiness of the road and the flat prairie landscape, it probably wouldn’t matter much. Sam doesn’t care how stupid this game is, Dean hasn’t laughed like that in way too long.

“’Kay, your turn,” he says. “Truth or Dare.”

Dean makes a face. “Truth. Your dares are always lame.”

“Just because they’re not likely to get you arrested! Dick.”

“Just call it like I see it, little bro.”

“Ok, then. Truth. Road head stories, top five.”

Dean looks at him out of the corner of his eye. “Don’t have any.”

“Really?” Sam's kind of incredulous. “Never? All the skanky girls you've dated, none of them would blow you in the Impala”?

Dean scowls. “Had offers. Besides, I never let the skanky ones in the car, dude.”

Sam thinks this is probably true. Fallen angels, yes, but not the random barflies Dean picks up. Or used to pick up, before... well, before. It's the “had offers” part that intrigues him, though.

“Not even in high school? Some of those girls were as hot for the car as they were for you, Dean.”

Dean scowls a little more. “Not what I wanted.”

Now we’re getting somewhere, Sam thinks. This is where the whole ridiculous conversation has been leading them. He glances at Dean, who is now pretending he needs to concentrate on the road. He wishes, not for the first time, than Dean would just talk about things without playing these stupid games.

“You wanted me to do it, didn't you?” Dean’s still watching the road, but his eyes widen just a little at Sam’s words, and Sam knows he’s on the right track.

He moves closer to Dean, sliding a hand into Dean's lap, rubbing lightly along the inseam of his jeans.

“This is your fantasy, isn't it? You don't just want anyone to blow you in the car. You want your little brother to do it.” Sam drops his voice, getting deeper, huskier. Dean's hips are rolling a little, trying to get some friction. Sam can feel him hardening beneath his hand.

“Did you think about it back then? When I was in high school? Did you think about picking me up in your big black car after school, your jailbait little brother with my book bag on my shoulder? Did you think about me sucking you off under the dash?”

“Jesus, Sam!” Dean's flushed and breathing hard now, Sam's rubbing his cock and thighs beneath his jeans.

“I’d have done it if you’d asked,” he says, leaning down to mouth at Dean’s dick through layers of fabric. “Used to think about you all the time, used to watch you with your girls and wish it was me.” Sam blows warm air through layers of denim, enjoying the answering shudder and moan from his brother.

“Sam, Sammy, please,” Dean’s reduced to incoherent babbling now, one hand on the wheel and the other tangled in Sam’s hair, trying to push him away or pull him closer, it’s hard to tell. Sam reaches for Dean’s zipper, pushing jeans and underwear out of the way and pulling him free of the fabric. He flicks his tongue at the head, tasting salt and musk. He nips just a little with his lips, teasing almost-bites that cause Dean to actually whimper and twitch. “Sammy,” is all he says, but he sounds wrecked already and his hand is urgent and heavy on Sam’s cheek. Sam takes pity on him and slides his lips over the head, swirling his tongue around it. Dean groans. Sam briefly wonders if this is how they’re going to die, sixty-five miles an hour with Dean’s cock in his mouth, but then he shrugs mentally. There are worse ways to go; he should know.

It’s hard to get a good angle with the steering wheel in the way, and Sam’s a big guy. He doesn’t think finesse is really the point of this, though, so he just goes for it, figuring enthusiasm will have to make up for lack of technique. He sucks and licks, using his hand to jack the base of Dean’s dick where he can’t quite get his head down far enough. It’s messy and noisy, but Dean seems to be happy with the results, and it’s not long before he’s tugging at Sam’s hair in warning. Sam opens this throat as much as he can, swallowing hot salty bursts, squeezing Dean through his spasms and the aftershocks.

Dean’s still tugging at him, kind of frantic, and Sam lifts his head to Dean’s. Dean is kissing him urgently, insistently, both hands on the sides of his face, chasing the taste of himself in Sam’s mouth. Sam panics for a moment before he realises that the car has stopped. He lets Dean push him back against the seat, shoving his hand clumsily into Sam’s jeans, jacking him until Sam comes all over Dean’s hand and his own and Dean’s t-shirts.  
Dean collapses against him and they lie there, sprawled, panting, against the seat for a few minutes while they catch their breath.

“Sam,” Dean mumbles. Sam can barely hear because his head is tucked into the side of Sam’s neck, but there’s something other than post-orgasmic bliss in his tone. “Yeah, Dean?” he says, wrapping his arms around Dean’s back. “Just want you to know – I’d never, I’d never have done anything back then, I wouldn’t.” Sam holds him a little tighter, rubbing Dean’s back with his hand.

“Dean. I know that. You'd never have come on to me when I was actual jailbait. You’re way too good a person for that, and I’m glad you didn’t, it would have fucked things up between us even more.” Sam gives Dean a firmer squeeze, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Doesn’t mean we can’t pretend sometimes, though.” Sam grins to himself. He’s totally buying one of those canvas bookbags next time he sees one.


End file.
